Carlos had brought over most of her clothes from her apartment, not that she owned a lot. Besides her gym clothes, she’d never needed much more. She wore a simple black dress. It was the one she’d worn to a dinner hosted by her family a few years ago. It was the fanciest thing she owned. Her femininity had always been stifled by her father, what he called a distraction from her calling. When this nightmare was all over, maybe she’d go shopping and buy some pretty things to wear.
She kept her hair out. It was longer than she realized once dried and brushed out, hitting the curve of her ass. She always kept it functional in braids or ponytails, so she barely recognized herself. Since Drago had gone all out, she even put on some make-up—red on her lips and a little color on her eyes. She didn’t recognize herself in the mirror.
Growing up, she’d been the fat kid. Then her father had her on an impossible exercise and training schedule, restricting her diet to the extreme. The first couple summers he even sent her to fat camp, one of her worst memories as a child. Even though her body was muscular underneath because of her fighting, she couldn’t hide her curves, especially her chest. During fights she’d bind herself up, flattening her breasts the best she could. She also had custom sports bras made to minimize. Her father said big tits made her look weak, and too feminine, so she was surprised he hadn’t forced her to have some kind of body-altering surgery.
When she opened the door to meet Drago in the foyer, she was nervous as hell. She expected him to point and laugh, to slap her on the back and tell her to get changed. Female fighters were always treated as one of the guys. But Belle didn’t want to be a fellow fighter, tomboy, or a buddy to Drago. She wanted him to look at her with lust in his eyes, with the desire and love she only fantasized about.
His back was to her, his wide shoulders filling out his jacket. As her low heels hit the tiles in the foyer, he turned around and froze. She held her breath, terrified of his reaction.
Please don’t laugh.
This was new for her—caring what she looked like, trying to impress a man, falling in love.
“Wow,” he said. “Just … wow.” He did a slow walk around her, observing her as if she were a statue in a gallery. “You’re stunning, Belle.” He picked up a section of her hair. “The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
She wanted to punch him because she swore he was lying, but a little part of her swooned, hoping every word was true. “I’m not used to dressing up. And I’m a bit scared to fall in these shoes even though they’re only two inches high.”
“Well, make sure you hold onto me all night.” He held out his bent elbow and she hooked arms with him. This was just friendship, right? A break from their constant paper shuffle. She didn’t dare expect more because she’d had enough disappointment lately to last a lifetime.
****
Drago was rendered speechless when Belle walked out of the bedroom. Fucking speechless. Her long blonde hair fell heavily down her back, her full lips pouty and red. She looked like she’d stepped right out of the pages of his fantasies, any man’s fantasies.
He did a slow circle around her. She had what he considered the perfect figure, and he hadn’t realized just how curvy.
Any hope of thinking of Belle as a sweet little sister or protégé went flying out the window. He saw her in a new light. She wasn’t a girl, even if she was over a decade younger. Belle was all woman, strong and independent. She was exactly what he wanted.
They made it to his car without any falls. Belle was worried about tripping, which was funny considering how she could handle herself in a ring. He wanted her to forget the life she’d left behind, never return to it, and spread her wings.
All this bullshit he was subjecting himself to was for her benefit. Yes, he wanted to make a difference, but it all started and ended with Belle. He needed to ensure she’d be safe, and could live a normal life away from her family.
“Did I tell you how beautiful you look?” he asked as they drove to the restaurant.
“Many, many times,” she said. “But that’s forgivable.” She smiled, and it looked good on her. Drago was fucking sick of seeing her worried and sad.
His initial intention had been to help out Belle, no strings attached. Her father was the worst of the worst, and she’d been through hell and back since childhood.
Now he wanted to be a part of her future. He was a selfish bastard, but no man would be able to take care of her like he could. No man would understand her like him.